Not too long ago, in the near-distant past, there was a time when I happened to room with two other students back in the hallowed halls of Douglas my freshman year. I was a wide-eyed student attending Northern Illinois University and was of the unfortunate/lucky ones, whichever way you look at it, to be residing in the "triple bedroom." It's laid out exactly as you think, kinda. There was one bed that doubled as a couch (mine) and then a bunk bed for the two other saps you were with. This wasn't bad, it was in the middle of the floor, the bathroom was right there, and it was spacious except - well, except for one of the roommates. He was a gangly fellow. One of the "whitest" black guys I had ever seen (the other being Carlton on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air). He was just very peculiar. Here's a list I made about him that is an accumulation of highlights from the one semester we spent together: 

1. He mastered masturbation; the Master of Bates, if you will. I didn't put two and two together right away. Not when I'd come back after a weekend where Sid was the only one there and there seemed to be an abundance of paper towels in the garbage can. Not when I noticed that my lotion seemed to be disappearing very quickly. Not even really when I found the homemade porno in my VCR consisting of recorded moments from PG-13 TV taken from our shitty college dorm cable. No, it all came together when I came home from class to find that the door was locked and I entered the room and caught the fucker in the act. Didn't even bother to pull up his pants. There he was, laying on his back, pants around his ankles, with "Mr. Bojangles" givin' me the Mile High Salute.

2. The kid ate with his mouth open. Hey, I'm all for eating, but when it involves letting others hear your distinct chomp-chew-chomp routines, then I think it's gotten a little out of hand. I think that after some time, I was able to tell what type of food it was that he was eating just by listening to the sounds his mouth made when chewing. Damn, I'm good. 

3. He folded his hands like a queer. Yeah, he would always sit about 8 inches away from his TV - actually, it was my TV and since no one in the suite had one, he acted as if it was his. Anyway, he would sit there, assface all up on the screen, sitting at a desk with his hands always folded and centered in front of him. The fruitcake. . . in all his Zen master glory. . .

4. He listened to the radio, while watching TV. Technically, this can be done simultaneously. However, good ol' Sid liked to put on his headphones and never take them off. I don't think he was getting much outta the TV unless the fucker could read lips. An extension of this comes in the form of him watching football on TV, then listening to the broadcasters on the radio. (According to Sid, the broadcasters on TV "sucked," so he chose to listen to the radio instead.) Show me the Constitution of the United States and the Liberty Bell and I shall show you Sidney Brown. If this man doesn't embody the freedom to "do what you want" then, hell, we're living in tyranny. Tyranny!.

5. Playstation. One. Period. If it wasn't the TV, it was Playstation. Friend to many college students, this Playstation was Sid's lover. Sometimes I wondered if he was jealous of the controller because it got to "enter" the Playstation and he didn't.

6. He fancied watching me on occasion. Yes, this would happen often. Not just when we were face to face but also when he thought I wasn't looking. Or in the dark. Or when I was pretending to sleep. It was pretty freaky to see his head perch over the top bunk only to look down at me. I couldn't sleep sometimes because I just knew he was waiting - and watching. . . he wanted to hit this shit.

7. The boy did not wash his clothes. I never ever did see him do a load of laundry. Well, maybe once - but it was a towel that I threw up on after a night of many tequila shots.

8. Ever the giver, he provided the room with an "odor smelltrack". Yes. This smell was indescribable. My other roommate and I concluded that it was coming from his "blankie," the blanket adorned with patterns that only a child could come to savor. It had little "cute" baseball mitts, footballs, and basketballs - plus, it smelled like shit. My roommate and I also concluded that the only solution was to spray it with Febreze every chance we got.

9. He would jump to the phone before the first ring was ever done. Jumped. From the top bunk. To the floor and over to the phone, which sat on a desk. All in one motion. Ringling Bros-type shit, man.

When I caught him wankin' it, I also noticed that there was some jizz on my bed. Which is weird enough, but the fact his bed (the top bunk) was about 7 feet away always puzzled me. Anyway, I couldn't stop shaking because I was going to beat his ass. I started throwing shit around my room and I even lunged at him to try to pull him off the bed to the ground but, fortunately, I didn't. After that incident, he tried to apologize to me in a hand-written letter that was tacked to my board. It was pathetically funny. Obviously, I told my tale to all on the floor that would listen and showed them the letter for further entertainment.

When it came time for all to leave for winter break, Sid packed up all his stuff and moved it out. I thought nothing of it because he was just that weird that I figured he wanted everything back home with him, even if it was only a month break. However, he never returned in January. And we never did get a replacement roommate. And that was great.